Tributes Assemble
by catOTPeeta
Summary: Superpowers AU. Every year, two children from each of Panem's Twelve Districts are taken from their families in a public reaping. They are then handed over to The Project as lab-rats and genetically modified to have special powers. This is their story.
1. Chapter 1

**Tributes Assemble - Chapter 1  
**

* * *

Everything started with the wasps. Tucked away in the mountains, far away from civilization, scientists trained them up for war. They had been taken, tampered with and changed, injected with new genes and studied under countless microscopes until they evolved into something deadly. Then came the birds, snatched from their nests in the treetops and scrambled until they could parrot back a whole conversation. Sent out into the rebellion like the weapons and spies they had become, the men in long white lab coats watched their creations thrive.

War ended soon after their release into the Districts, the rebels eventually succumbing to the rule of the Captiol once more. Twelve still stood, now defeated, while the thirteenth was obliterated entirely. Then came peace, an uneasy peace that was to be maintained by sacrifice. Punishment was the key to ensuring that history did not repeat itself.

The majority of jabberjays and tracker jackers were cast out into the wilderness, no longer of any real use to the Capitol. But a spark of genius in a desperate time can often manifest, lurking in the shadows even when its necessity diminishes. Interest had been piqued, and everyone wanted to know how far this new form of genetic engineering would stretch.

Of course, it quickly became clear that the penalty the Capitol lay down for the uprising provided a perfect window of opportunity for human experimentation.

Thus it was decreed in the Treaty of the Treason that every year, each of the remaining Districts must provide the scientists with two tributes, one girl and one boy between the ages of twelve and eighteen for what was dubbed as 'The Project'. Some volunteered while others were simply ripped away from their families and friends in a public reaping.

As soon as they had been selected, there was no going back. Carted off on a train to the very edges of what remained of their tattered world, these children were never seen again.

* * *

The semi-circle they sat in was supposed to make them feel more at home in the dark, grey cell they were trapped in. It didn't work, though. The walls of the room were covered in a shabby coat of off-white paint, cracked and peeling in places to reveal the murky coloured plaster beneath. Above their heads, the lone light bulb that hung down on a thick plastic wire blinked sporadically. How could he relax here? It was headache inducing, claustrophobic and he felt like he couldn't breathe.

He was far too conscious of the ten pairs of eyes that surrounded him, knowing that each of them could choose focus on him at any given point. Peeta was also hyper-aware of the fact that really, it should have been twenty-four. It was clear that some of the other kids hadn't even made it this far. He hated it.

Glancing around, he noted that the one bit of colour and light in the cell seemed to radiate from the pink-haired woman who sat on the opposite side of the room, dressed up in a range of fluorescents and smiling radiantly as she surveyed them. Accidentally meeting her eyes across the room, he blushed furiously and looked away. She cleared her throat.

"Now," she began primly, breaching the tentative silence for the first time since they had arrived in the room. Even her accent sounded manufactured and false. "As I am sure you are all aware, you have been selected for some very special new… Experiences."

In the semi-circle, several people grimaced at her sugarcoated wording. Katniss, his district partner was one of them. This was not, by any stretch of the imagination, what your average person would refer to as a special experience. They'd been dragged away from everyone and everything they loved and dumped here in this cramped metal cage with a bunch of strangers. Fourteen of them were already dead or worse. Peeta shuddered at the thought.

"Earlier, you were tested for compatibility with the gene-enhancing drugs we use here, and all of you were lucky enough to survive!" She trilled the words happily, as if she were delivering the best news in the world. "Over the course of the next few weeks, we will continue your treatment until you reach evolution. At that point, you will be moved to the training school to study and grow into your new power."

"New power?" The question came from a small girl three seats to the left of Peeta in the semi-circle. She looked confused. "I don't understand. What do you mean, new power?"

"Oh my, has no one explained to you about The Project yet?" She over annunciated all of her words as she spoke, putting emphasis into everything. When they shook their heads back, the older woman clapped two perfectly manicured claws over her mouth, eyes blown comically wide in a caricature of surprise. "Well, no wonder you all look so miserable to be here!"

"We look miserable to be here because we don't want to be here." Katniss interrupted from beside Peeta, raising an eyebrow at her skeptically. This comment apparently went unnoticed, though, as the pink-lipped woman simply continued to enthuse about the wonders that lay in store for them.

"In that case, let me start at the beginning." She beamed at them toothily. "The Project is all about helping the human race to advance and paving the way to a brighter future for the whole of Panem! You are one of the few who are lucky enough to qualify for the privilege of helping the development of the gene-treatment that will speed up evolution, giving us the powers we need to survive in this ever changing world."

Peeta scoffed inwardly. She made them sound like martyrs when really they were just lab-rats in the Capitol's fucked up vision. He felt sick, but he didn't dare to say anything. It wasn't in his nature to voice his thoughts out loud.

"Until we figure out what your power is, you will have daily check-ups with the doctors here. You will also have a group session with me every week. We need to be able to understand the workings in a physical manner, but that doesn't mean we don't care for your mental state!" The woman simpered at this, doing an almost decent job at pretending she actually gave a crap about them. No one fell for it, though. At this stage, they all knew better than that.

A sharp elbow from Katniss suddenly jabbed him hard in the side and he jumped. Biting back a squeal of surprise, he swiveled around to face her. "Isn't this the most bullshit you've ever heard?" She whispered to him lowly, completely ignoring the indignant little frown that the boy was sporting. "Seriously, I'm going to punch her if she doesn't shut up in the next ten seconds. Her voice is hurting my ears!"

Peeta giggled quietly, and then clamped his teeth down on his lower lip frantically, trying to cover it up. He was absolutely horrified with himself. Luckily for him the woman was so caught up in her rant that she didn't notice his outburst, but he felt embarrassed all the same. Across the circle, one of the girls caught his eye smirked at him. He felt his cheeks start to heat. After that, he ignored all of Katniss' whispered comments and attempts at conversation.

At first he tried to concentrate on what the woman was rambling on about, really he did, but he found that he kept spacing out as she carried on (and on, and on) in much the same vein. She babbled so much nonsense that Peeta had to use his frequently implemented technique of zoning out just to keep himself awake. He felt his eyes glaze over as he embarked on different trains of thought that probably led to nowhere. He didn't care. Nowhere was still better than listening to this.

Behind him, he barely heard the door as it slid open. The technology here was so advanced compared to that in any of the Districts that Peeta was amazed. It would've been silent, if it weren't for the muffled grunt of the man who was entering, and the clumsy noise of a hand colliding with the wall. This caused everyone to spin around in unison where they sat, ten pairs of eyes fixing themselves on the now open doorway.

They watched silently as a tall, lean man staggered further into the room, not letting go of the wall as he took clumsy steps towards them, hand sliding across it as he pulled himself along. It looked like he was dependent on it for any sort of stability.

Of course, Peeta recognised him. Haymitch Abernathy.

He looked far older now than he had the day he left District 12, more tired and haggard, skin sunken with age, but his strong features were still very much the same. Back in the Seam, he was something of a public hero, renowned for being the only person to ever volunteer from the district, and somehow the only survivor. The man was known everywhere. He was the face of hope for all of the Tributes selected in the reaping each year. If Haymitch Abernathy can do it, so can you.

At least the Capitol had the courtesy of updating families on who was dead. That was all the information they needed, apparently.

It was almost a routine now, the way that the tributes from District 12 would be announced dead within a couple of days of their departure: the crisp white envelope containing a single picture of their beloved sent to their families with a simple red cross against their face. No cause of death. Not even a hint of what happened or how they coped.

Usually they never even made it through the first few stages of experimentation.

Back home, everyone was still clueless about what the Capitol were doing to their children. Even the most imaginative of people hadn't thought of this. Theories circulated, of course, ranging from execution or torture to cannibalism and sex trafficking, but never experiments inducing super powers. Maybe it was too inane for them to even comprehend the idea of it. Even Peeta was struggling to make sense of it all.

All he knew is that they had been somehow altered in a way that would give them some kind of power. Even though it seemed ridiculous, he knew it had to be true and, in light of this revelation, Peeta wondered what power Haymitch had got.

"Ugh. 'M here to – to take them to their rooms…" The man mumbled groggily from where he stood, still leaning heavily on the solid wall beside him. His eyes scanned the tributes blearily, unfocused until they settled on the tributes from his district at the far end of the circle.

He almost leered at them. "Two from twelve?" He laughed throatily, a low rasping noise that sounded more like a wheeze than anything. "Th-that's..." He frowned, trying to think of the right word. "Unexpected!" he finally settled on triumphantly, flashing the pair an almost predatory grin that reminded Peeta of a shark that he'd seen from District Four.

It was as if he was reveling in a joke that only he knew the punch line to, lips stretched thin across the jagged lines of his teeth. Peeta shuddered when the man's cold grey gaze met his own, quickly averting his eyes away from him and instead focusing on his own feet, feeling a blush work its way up from his neck to his face. He really couldn't handle people. He wasn't even good with his family, still flinching away from physical contact and stammering over his words after all the years of knowing them.

Part of it came from being painfully shy and incredibly unsure of himself, and the rest from his awkwardness in any and every form of social situation. It took him a long time to trust people enough to relax with them, meaning he only had a select few friends. Now he was stuck with all these people he didn't know. People he probably didn't want to know. Even a quick glance around put his nerves so on edge that it was nauseating.

"Yes, unexpected indeed." The woman replied frostily, looking back at the seemingly drunk man with distaste. "You know, Haymitch, it would have been more appropriate for you to at least try and set a good example for our new arrivals." At this, her lips turned downwards at the corners so she was scowling at him, another over-exaggerated expression that looked hideous on her. The man just smirked back and she sighed, shaking her head in exasperation before fixing on her Capitol-approved grin once more.

"Anyway, we're just about done here, I'd say!" She declared, her sunny attitude instantly returning. Peeta couldn't help but find it funny when a deep sigh of relief sounded from a couple of tributes at the other end. At least he hadn't been the only one excruciatingly bored.

"Right, of course. Whatever you say, sweetheart." Haymitch rolled his eyes. He seemed more sober when he was mocking woman from the Capitol, his words no longer slurring together as he spoke. "Look, I'll take the boys and if you could be _so_ kind, oh glorious one, would you grant me the great honour of your assistance by taking the girls?"

Effie scowled at him in confusion, apparently debating whether his compliment was genuine and whether to gratify it with her acknowledgement or not. Watching them interact, it kind of seemed like the two of them were polar opposites, one so pristine and proper while the other appeared to be to so… well. Shabby, carefree and feckless? Peeta found it almost funny that the pair of them had to work together.

Finally she settled on a peaceable smile, but one that still looked cold and manufactured. Capitol-style. "Yes, and thank you, Haymitch! Girls!" She piped in her odd, inflected tones, and gestured for them to stand up and follow her as she tottered her way to the door. The man beside her shot her a not-so-subtle scowl before he did the same.

Peeta managed to catch Katniss' eyes as they both pushed their chairs back and stood up, following suit of the other tributes. As they walked towards the door, she offered him a smile and bumped their arms together in some sort of silent gesture of "good luck". It was like she knew he'd need it. Smiling back at her, he attempted to return the gesture.

Even before they'd been reaped, Katniss was one of the closest things he had to a friend. He had respected her in District Twelve for her hunting, and she liked him because he was quiet. They ate lunch together at school sometimes, and she'd slowly made her way under his skin with her soft eyes and wide smile. She was one of the few people that could always coax a laugh out of him, no matter what.

Actually, thinking about it now, they were pretty close. Closer than he'd thought. Whenever she wasn't hunting with her boyfriend, Gale (who scared Peeta no end, no matter how much Katniss assured him that the boy was harmless), or looking after her little sister, she spent her time in the bakery with Peeta. He felt suddenly glad that she was here with him, even if she scared him a little. It would be nice to have someone he could actually talk to here, he guessed.

As soon as the girl left his sight, he felt far more nervous than before. All of the girls had gone with Effie, leaving only boys in the shabby grey cell. He could feel himself beginning to panic. Boys scared him even more than girls did, and these ones looked particularly nasty.

He actually gulped as he watched the monstrous boy from Two exchange a few words with the boy next to him, throwing his head back and laughing loudly at the retort. Apparently, the two of them had already made friends, and they were both already strutting around like they owned the place. He just hoped he got his own room. He was fairly sure there was no one here he could deal with sharing with.

Surveying the other four boys in his room, he noted that they were all much taller than him and far better built, except for the little curly haired boy from – was it Three? He couldn't remember, but at least the kid looked harmless. In fact, he looked so fragile he looked like he could break at any moment. It was kind of surprising that he managed to survive even the first leg of The Project, considering the fact that he was even smaller and more defenseless than Peeta was. The odds must have been in his favour.

* * *

**A/N: **Hello, hi, hey everyone and a huge thank you to you for reading this. We wanted to try something new with this one, and as always we'd love to know what you think. Please leave a review if you can find the time! Any and all feedback really helps us to improve and motivates us to write more (lots and lots more). Also (just as a warning) this fic is rated M for later chapters, so you might want to watch out for that. PS, For anyone who reads our other Peeta/Cato fic (Know Your Enemy) the next chapter for that should be up some time over the next couple of days. Hopefully we'll see you there!


	2. Chapter 2

**Tributes Assemble - Chapter 2**

* * *

He had been overwhelmingly relieved when he found out that they'd all get their own rooms (at least "for the time being, anyway" as Haymitch had warned). He just hoped the older man had been joking when he said that, trying to psych them out. If so, it was working.

Sighing, Peeta pushed the worries down and focused on settling into the room. It was a nice room – hell, it was an amazing room, extravagantly furnished with things that Peeta didn't even know the name of. Luxurious silks and satins lay in every crevice, giving even more grandeur to a place that already had enough of it to swim in. It was nothing like the peeling paints, dark walls and single blinking bulb back in that cell.

Overwhelmed, he sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. It was sickeningly huge, probably the size of his entire bedroom back in Twelve. He was part of the Merchant section of his district – the richer part – but he'd never even imagined riches like this. The softness of the quilts threatened to swallow him whole as he sat and surveyed the rest of room.

Even though he was alone here, he still couldn't shake the nervous feeling he got whenever anyone was looking at him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end. He couldn't help but think that they were somehow monitoring him, and that they had countless cameras tracking his every move.

He didn't know why they would bother. It seemed, to him, like an extraordinary waste of time. It's not as if it would make any difference whether they watched him or not. Peeta would behave impeccably anyway – he wouldn't be able to stand the embarrassment that would ensue should he drew any attention to himself.

He didn't think he could even try to oppose them and The Project they spoke of. It wasn't his nature. He sighed and held his head between his hands, thumbs rolling over his temple. Gave way to his worries. What if they gave him a power that was visibly noticeable? He wouldn't fade away into the background any longer. The only comforting thought was that here, as far as he could tell, almost everyone had a power. All of the other Tributes would go through the same thing, and he was sure that his power would not be the most remarkable of all of them. It couldn't be, not when he was so incredibly plain and boring.

He could only guess at the freakish nature of these powers, judging by how freakishly the normal citizens of the Capitol dressed, spoke and generally were. Shuddering, he bit his lip and shuffled further along the bed, seating himself comfortably with his legs tucked toward his chest, hugging them as he rested his forehead on his knees.

Curiosity was eating away at him over what powers they'd given the previous Tributes from other years. Did the Capitol even have control over which powers were created? Possibly not, considering how many of their specimens had already died. He wondered if it was like that in other years, too. Were any of them still alive other than Haymitch? And what power could he possibly have?

The man didn't look any different, apart from the obvious signs of aging and his general scruffiness - more a product of alcohol abuse rather than any scientific experiment. As for that, well. It certainly made Peeta wonder. Wonder and, more specifically, worry.

Why was Haymitch drinking himself into oblivion when he'd so famously volunteered for this? Well, not specifically this, but something like it. He was obviously eager. So the question was, what had gone wrong and made Haymitch realise that it wasn't a good idea? Maybe he began to miss his family.

That was another thing. His family. He may not be as close with them as Katniss was with Prim (was anyone?) but they supported him endlessly through everything. They were the only people he could be himself around truly, one hundred percent. Well. Maybe not a whole hundred. Probably high seventies at most.

He sighed deeply.

It had irritated him for a while, more and more as he got a little older. How he could hardly speak to anyone, and the crushing feeling working its way from his chest up through his throat so he couldn't breathe, face flushing bright red, spreading to his neck and ears as he spluttered whenever anyone would attempt speaking to him. Each time, he'd walk away in shame, silently scolding himself with insults that he directed inwards.

The older he got, the worse it became. His inner voice, the darker side of him that had been stewing for a while started to taunt him of his insecurities, flaunting everything he hated about himself both in his face and in every quiet corner of his mind. Every day. He'd got into a bit of a spiral of self-hatred for a time. He didn't show it. Of course he didn't. He didn't want the attention. But it made him increasingly more nervous to talk to people. For a year or so, he wouldn't even make eye contact with his mother. Couldn't.

Then Katniss came along, kind and quiet with a wicked sense of humour and a soft smile. One day she just sat down next to him at lunchtime during school. Before then, he always sat alone. This was out of choice, of course, but still. No one wanted to sit next to the little weird mute. He was pretty sure that someone out there had actually started a rumour he was secretly an Avox, but whatever. It was easier that they believe it anyway. People don't bully people they pity. After the initial buzz, people left him alone again. Everything was fine.

She hadn't said anything to him at first. Hadn't even made eye contact. Not the first few times anyway. She must have studied him before, must have known he'd have been too terrified to respond if she did. It was strange, but Peeta enjoyed the silent companionship, even if it was just during their lunch hour.

Then Katniss started sitting next to him in class, sometimes even exchanging answers with him silently, pointing her pen at the correct one with a tentative smile, gradually building up to their first conversation. Building up their trust network. Peeta liked that. Wondered why everyone didn't behave like that. It was the best way to get to know someone. Slowly.

Their first conversation had happened when Katniss turned up at the bakery, completely out of the blue, under the pretence of buying a cake for her sister's birthday. Of course, she never had the intention to buy it – Katniss was from the Seam, and Peeta wasn't a snob but it was just a known fact that she wasn't rich. She just wanted to see him. He guessed that it was probably because she didn't have many friends either. He liked that.

She'd enquired about the prices of cakes, pretending to be disappointed when she realised that she couldn't afford one. Pretending. She had known right from the start that she couldn't, not when there had barely been a single coin spare in her family since her father had died.

Peeta's father, who just so happened to accidentally overhear their entire conversation, had given her one of their cakes for free, along with what could be a year's supply of bread and pastries for her family. She tried to refuse, but he wouldn't let her. The baker liked her too much for that. Still, she wouldn't take anything for nothing and she made him do a deal in exchange for his generosity. She brought him free game every other Sunday.

The baker knew that his son's friends were scarce, and where the boy was embarrassed, his father was ecstatic. To him, it seemed that Peeta had finally found a friend in this strong-headed girl from the Seam. Maybe, if he was lucky, her personality would rub off on the boy and he'd stop being so introverted, quiet and withdrawn.

Most customers left and came back to collect their requests later that day, but not her. Katniss had stayed and watched him decorate the cake she'd asked for. This was where he felt truly at peace, a tube of icing squeezed softly in his palm, the frosted sugar between his fingertips just itching to be spun. He felt so much more confident around Katniss by now that it didn't even bother him, her watching. He even forgot she was there before she spoke, complimented him on his sugar flowers. Hundreds of miniature sized primroses.

"How do you do these?" She'd murmured, flashing an impressed smile at him. "They're so pretty. I couldn't even draw something like this, never mind make it edible."

For the first time in weeks, Peeta felt like didn't have to force the small smile that he returned to her. He was slowly realising that Katniss actually wanted to be his friend. He had doubted it at first, but now he could feel the real sincerity in her voice.

The first time he spoke to her it was a whispered "thanks," followed by a tiny grin and this seemed to be all the acknowledgement Katniss needed to decide that they were now 'best friends'. She'd beamed a wider beam than any he'd ever seen on anyone, and from that moment on, she had determinedly tried to engage him even more in conversation, demanding in her own soft way for him to explain every little thing he was doing with the cake.

He complied cautiously, humouring her, and even helped her shakily write her sister's name on it in pink icing. That earned him a squeeze on his arm when she left, which he (surprisingly) wasn't too bothered by.

Katniss was different to everyone else, he found. She was quiet herself, but in her case it wasn't because of nerves or shyness. It was quite obvious that she just didn't like the majority of people. Found them annoying. This became even more clear with her mumbled jabs and spiked remarks, which Peeta had to stifle a laugh for every time.

To fill his long silences, she told him all about her family and her life. Personal things about her father, her relationship with her mother and Prim. Gale. Hunting. She was so much more interesting than Peeta, and he enjoyed listening to her stories of all her exciting hunting trips. He even enjoyed her angsting about Gale. He was incredibly happy for her when they finally got together. The rumours about him being in love with her that circulated at school were, as is usually the case with rumours, completely untrue.

He didn't see Katniss as anything other than a friend (best friend, she would correct him with a 'humph' and maybe even a soft punch to the arm if she had been there), and he didn't think he could if he wanted to. Of course, he thought she was pretty. Most people did. But he just couldn't. Didn't. He didn't see her like that, and if nothing else, he was way too shy.

Shaking his head to pull himself out of the reverie, he felt how his lips were stretched into a grin. He couldn't believe his luck that somehow his only friend had ended up here with him. He wanted to pretend to himself that he was just glad of company, but really his biggest relief was that she'd offer him some protection against the other Tributes. She was tough, tougher than Peeta by far. Hardened by her trips into the woods and the necessity of haggling trade at the black market.

She was strong and brave, whereas Peeta was sure that those boys from One and Two could slice him to bits in less than a second. Of course, they wouldn't. Well, probably wouldn't. At least, he hoped they wouldn't. They were on some sort of team here, right? Tributes united against the Capitol or something.

He rolled his eyes at himself. He was left alone with his thoughts far too often and they frequently spun out of control. Started embarking on different tracks that stretched out into the distance, so out of sync with the original thought that there was hardly any relevance to it. Which of course only made Peeta analyse further. The last half hour had been spent thinking, perching pensively on his new bed. Where had all that time even gone?

The people watching him must be really bored. They probably thought he slept with his eyes open – or maybe they were worried that he'd gone into some sort of paralytic state. Paralysed in his own mind. That sounded like the sort of thing that would happen to him. But no, he was just a boring person. Or maybe just safe… safe and quiet.

He found it almost funny that he'd been all but kidnapped from his home, and all he could think to do was just sit here musing. Reminiscing. Not anything like what he was willing to bet some of the others were getting up to. Maybe that would be good for him though. Like everything else he did, this would probably allow him to slip below the radar.

The boys from One and Two, who probably seemed scarier, more threatening in his memories than they did in the flesh, might get bored of him if he just kept himself to himself. And if they wanted to bully anyone, which he had learned from experience that many people did, the little one from Three was a clearer choice, right? Not that he wanted the kid to be bullied or anything. He didn't. He just needed something to draw the attention away from himself.

Satisfied with the thought, Peeta stretched out on the bed and tucked himself in under the thick, warm blanket. He looked past the silken sheets and took a deep, calming breath. This was his routine to go to sleep, his own private, ten minute long routine that he had done every night without fail for long as he could remember. He thought other people would probably find it really weird, but so what? He was pretty confident that no one would ever be interested in witnessing it.

He closed his eyes to exhale, then opened them for the inhale. He repeated this step seven times, then stretched each one of his limbs. Slowly. He then focused on relaxing his muscles, one by one. Starting from his feet, working his way up. Once he got to his left arm, the rest of his body feeling relaxed and soft, sinking into the mattress, he closed his eyes. If he focused just right, he'd be able to fall asleep very soon.

Just minutes later, he had. He smiled as he felt his eyelids becoming heavier quickly. His mind began to close off. Not completely, of course. Just of rational thought. This was his favourite state. Almost-sleep. When he felt like nothing could hurt him. Nothing mattered. Not the Capitol. Not the boys who may-or-may-not be bullies from One and Two. Not even his power. Just relaxation. He was safe.

* * *

He awoke like he always did, with a start. Eyes widening in relief, feeling fear slip away from him. The frustrated feeling as the memory of the dream seeped out of his mind while he tried desperately to cling on to it. Analyse it. He was glad of it later, though. Anything to stop him analysing himself was more than welcome. It meant he could slip into sleep the night after feeling safe once more.

Peeta groaned a little as he forced himself out of bed. He stretched his arms above his head until heard the loud, satisfying click of his bones. He was still alone, but he looked around nervously anyway, as if he could've brought attention to himself with the noise. No one was there, which should have been obvious, but Peeta was relieved anyway. He had to hang on to these precious few minutes before he had to go out and socialise.

Grimacing, he almost wanted to crawl back under the blankets, but then remembered Katniss and his spirits lifted a little. He could probably just spend the day sitting in the corner with her or something. Well, he hoped. They might want to integrate and analyse everyone further, or maybe run some tests. Didn't that woman say they'd have to see doctors here? His lips turned down at the edges into a frown at this as he dressed himself in the simplest clothes he could find – a bit of a challenge, but buried underneath a ghastly hot pink suit was a pair of brown trousers and he managed to locate one plain white v-neck t-shirt hung on a ornate golden hanger in the depths of the third wardrobe he'd scanned. Nice, normal clothes. Pulling them on, he huffed in relief. At least he wouldn't look like a freak.

With this in mind, he rested his hand on the door handle. Time to go.

But go where? He didn't know his way around here. In fact, he didn't even know if he was allowed out of his room in this place. He couldn't let his expensive surroundings make him forget what he was here for, forget his lowly status. Another part of an experiment, that's all he was to them. If he wanted to stay alive, he'd have to be on his best behaviour. Chewing his lip thoughtfully, he retreated from the door. It had seemed like freedom a minute ago but now only seemed like danger. It was too risky.

* * *

The table that dominated about half of the room was laden down with hundreds of heavy dishes. Marvel had no idea what any of them were. He asked about each as he ate, cramming as many of what he learned to be the 'pancakes', 'waffles' and then 'slices of toast' with a healthy slathering of 'strawberry jam' into his mouth as he could fit. From across the table, a girl was watching him in disgust. He smiled at her open mouthed, making sure he revealed the chewed contents of his breakfast as he did so. She visibly recoiled, then looked away. He grinned, satisfied. He sure showed her.

Although he came from District One, the Capitol's most favoured District, he'd still never even seen food of this high standard. He wasn't the only one. None of the other Tributes had ever eaten so well before in their lives. Back in their Districts, meals like this were the stuff of legends. Seriously. Half of them could barely even afford a loaf of bread.

"Where are the rest of you lot?" Haymitch asked and then burped loudly, not bothering to cover his mouth or excuse himself afterwards. He was no more polite and proper sober than he was drunk. "Yesterday there were ten of you, only eight are here. We're missing the one from Twelve and that little runt from Three."

"They're probably still in their rooms." Shrugging, the girl who had been glaring across the table stood up. "I'll go and find them."

"No, no. Not you, Twelve. Sit back down." He scanned the rest of the Tributes in the room as she reluctantly lowered herself back into her seat, his eyes narrow and calculating. They bore right into each person, flashing cold and steely silver as he evaluated them, somehow decided their worth with his eyes alone. Overall, he seemed unimpressed.

For a minute, his gaze hovered between Marvel and the burly blond boy sitting next to him, before finally settling on the former.

"You." He pointed at the boy offhandedly. "Go and get them."

Maybe he would've protested if his mouth wasn't so full of… what was it again, a scone? He couldn't remember. As it were, though, his mouth was so crammed he couldn't say anything sharp about how he wasn't some dogsbody around here, and how there were plenty of other people around who could pick up his slack. The only thing stopping him, making him nod dutifully and rise from his seat, was the thickly clotted cream and crumbly pastry that sat weightily on top of his tongue.

Pushing his chair back petulantly, Marvel skulked out of the room, his mood noticeably darker than before. Haymitch smiled smugly after his back, like he knew that was going to happen. After a small moment of silence, everyone else shrugged and continued eating, quick to dismiss the whole affair. It's not like it was a big deal, anyway.

* * *

Swallowing his pride (and the last of his breakfast), Marvel navigated his way through the corridors as fast as he could. The sooner he got these two losers, the sooner he could go back to eating. He really, really liked eating.

He found the kid from Three quickly enough. He was only a few doors away from Marvel's own room, and Marvel had seen Haymitch shunt the boy in there the day before when they were first allocated their new living quarters. Approaching the door, he considered for a moment then thumped his fist against the hard metal so hard that it rattled on its hinges, the harsh sound reverberating through the walls.

"Three!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. He could've sworn he heard a squeak from within. "You have ten seconds to get the fuck out of bed and get out here or I'm going to break this door down and drag you."

Marvel counted aloud, his tone becoming steadily threatening with every number he spoke. He was only up to a snarled seven out of the ten when the door was flung open, revealing a bleary eyed little kid with sleep-rumpled hair, mismatching socks without shoes, a pair of what appeared to be leather hot-pants and a loose fitting pink dress shirt that was buttoned up completely wrong. In a panic, he practically sprinted out of the door, which resulted in him barrelling straight into the older boy who waited outside.

"S-sorry," he stammered, pink faced. "I'm so sorry. I must have over s-slept. I didn't mean to k-keep you waiting or t-to run into you. I'm so sorry." His stutter betrayed him, the unspoken 'please' and 'don't hurt me' ringing out louder than his apologies.

If there was one thing Marvel hated more than missing breakfast, it was little weaklings like this. He didn't even hesitate before he cuffed the boy sharply around the back of his head.

"Watch yourself, Three," he spat warningly. "I don't give second chances."

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed off down the corridor, leaving the bemused little boy to trail along behind him, tripping over his own feet and rubbing at the tender skin on the back of his scalp.

Now to find the other one's room. Twelve, was it? Marvel didn't know. He hadn't been listening to Haymitch before he got sent to go and get him.

Thinking back to the day before, when they had sat down together in the cell, he tried to match the faces from then to the ones that he'd eaten breakfast with. The only one he couldn't recall seeing at both, aside from Three, was that timid guy from the other side of the room who practically flinched at the sight of his own shadow. Oh yes. Now Marvel remembered him. Yet another weakling.

"Three, do you know which room Twelve is staying in?" He barked out harshly, turning to fix the younger boy with a glare. Blinking back at him, the other boy shook his head worriedly. Marvel scoffed, continuing on past the next few doors, still yelling. "Twelve. Twelve, if you can hear me you'd better get the fuck out here or I'll make your life fucking hell!"

Then a door swung open, a dirty blond head peeking out. Eyes widened when they landed on Marvel, and then the boy hurriedly rushed through the door, leaving it to swing shut behind him. He was far better dressed than the boy from Three, and far less flustered. He didn't even attempt to say sorry, just slunk out into the hall and avoided looking at anyone, nervously chewing at his lower lip.

Not really knowing what else to do with the boy's passive approach, Marvel decided to stick to what he knew best. Yelling. "Don't just stand there you half-wit, move!" He practically screamed. Beside him, Three flinched. The kid from Twelve looked back at him owlishly. Well, looked near him. His gaze was pointed more towards the wall behind Marvel's head, ensuring that he only had to look at the other boy out of his peripheral vision. He still didn't say anything, nor did he move.

Growling lowly in frustration, Marvel took off back the way they had come, not even bothering to check the other two were still behind him. If they weren't, it was their own problem. He just wanted to get back to the table before that chubby looking girl he was sure he'd spotted down there ate all of the nice cakes.

* * *

**A/N:** Hi everyone! Thank you all for reading and for your patience. Exams are over fairly soon, so hopefully we'll be able to write a lot more as soon as that happens. Until then, we'd love it if you could leave us a review if you can find the time. Nothing fuels the fire quite like a bit of feedback! Have a lovely day and hopefully we'll see you soon.


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